Ancient Stones ~villanelle

Ancient Stones

Ancient stones speak tongues of history
a truth of time buried beneath our fears
forgotten knowledge told as mystery.

Only a few can hear stones speak clearly
bestowed this dying gift they walk in tears
ancient stones speak tongues of history.

A history if lost is gone in misery
it bears wisdom of times we made unclear
forgotten knowledge told as mystery.

Alone among the hills lives a gypsy
she hears stones tell ancient stories when near
ancient stones speak tongues of history.

One must believe and listen gingerly
in hopes to hear an ancient stone appear
forgotten knowledge told as mystery.

Stones tell the truths we lost in memory
the day we ran like fools from nature’s sphere
ancient stones speak tongues of history
forgotten knowledge told as mystery.

©River 3/11

villanelle rules: 19 lines, 2 repeating rhymes and 2 refrains, 5 tercets and 1 quatrain, A1 b A2 / a b

A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 A2.- capitals refrain lower case rhymes.

1 and 3 line of 1^st tercet repeated alternately in the last lines of the succeeding stanzas; then in the final stanza, the refrain serves as the poem's two concluding lines

from the French

posted for One Shot Wednesday week 36 at One Stop Poetry~ come & join the fun!

A Winters Wind ~duel poetry

 By Charles Martin and River Urke

A Winters Wind

these things you hold so dear
cradled in your hands
as if a delicate bloom
are mere shadows of your past
you long to hold as it was
cradling a memory
framed in yesterday
unwilling to set him free
but he is not yours to hold
he belongs to a winter's wind
flowing through these barren trees
like his fingers once in your long hair
combing the woven threads of knowledge
the tangled web of life’s intrinsic collective
delicately kissing a union of unattainable love
knowing he has to walk the paths not taken
your ache bears the weight of drowned tears
tears flowing from a thousand souls
abandoned by the gods of peace
and so each warrior must leave this place
and those he loves for one last futile battle

a battle of man against the natural world

a ludicrous yet crucial clash of power
he stands not with men ~horrified by
the hundreds of years of rap and pillage

leaving the earth a barren tract of sand
sand moving in the hour glass of history
though this narrow passage way of fate
to where his death will be found

the mere moment you know, stabbed

your heart bleeds for you and your unborn

a wail of agony escapes through silent cries

the loss of your beloved, her father

the time is here to set him free~

his soul flies with a winters wind.

By Charles Martin and River Urke                 

This is the third duel poem Charles and I have written together. Both of us wondered about where this one was going to go then like the others it turned out really cool.

Duel Poetry:  a prearranged poetry writing challenge  between two people to evolve a new poem where each writer must respond to the other writer’s lines  (4 -5 ) until both parties agree that the poem is complete.